


Underground.

by RussianSunflower3



Series: Sunflower's WHUMPTOBER 2018 [14]
Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Alternate Universe - Yakuza, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Angst with a Happy Ending, Gang Violence, Gen, Guns, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Psychological Torture, Rescue Missions, Torture, Weapons, Whumptober 2018
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-14
Updated: 2018-10-14
Packaged: 2019-08-01 21:52:41
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 4,307
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16292468
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RussianSunflower3/pseuds/RussianSunflower3
Summary: A member of the Yakuza group Karasuno, Tanaka had been part of a mission to eradicate a rising threat.But the threat was bigger than they ever imagined, and when he's captured during the mission, he knows it's not going to be easy to make it through and escape.But he's going to. He made a promise.





	1. Captured!

**Author's Note:**

> Please read the tags CAREFULLY!

“Go, Noya, go! Peddle to the meddle!”

“I’m driving, I’m driving!” One of the more reckless Yakuza groups in this region, Karasuno currently fled from the site of a shoot-out with one of their small rivals, a rising threat to the peace Karasuno maintained that had to be crushed under foot. 

Tasks like that were entrusted to the slightly crazy, risk-taking group that called themselves “The second years”, mainly because they were the ones who joined Karasuno in its second wave. 

Noya was the designated driver, currently skidding the van around a corner so hard it left tire burn marks on the tar. On top of the van, lying flat on his stomach, was their sharpshooter Ennoshita. He was amazingly skilled enough to take out the group chasing them, even at this speed!

Kinoshita, explosives expert, currently lobbed smoke bombs out the window, whilst Narita worked in the back of the van to construct a magnetic tracking device that could be launched from the window.

Just in case any of those that _should_ have been eliminated decided to drive away instead. Last but not least, Tanaka, the man with an obsession for all things sharp and shiny, was whistling as he polished a dagger in the front seat.

“Ryuu, get your damn feet off my dashboard!”

“Aww, c’mon, man! You know I gotta chill to get the blade just right!” There’s a momentary pause in the rapid gunfire from the roof, and Ennoshita’s voice comes in at a volume just above the engine, chilling enough to send a shudder down Tanaka’s spine.

“Get your feet off the dashboard so Noya can drive, or _god forbid_ , I’ll have Suga melt down every single one of your ‘babies’.”

“Yessir, sure thing, sir.” Tanaka obeys, colour drained from his face with the threat. Not only would melting down his knives and swords and daggers be a horrible thing, but Suga would make it worse by showing great delight at the destruction, most likely cackling.

Noya laughs. Tanaka elbows him, but only gently, not enough to move the steering wheel. But as Noya looks across at Tanaka to rebuke, he notices something approaching in the window mirror.

“Incoming!” It’s a freaking _grappling hook_ , embedded in the side of the van, just behind Tanaka’s door. 

“No worries, I got this.” Cool as a cucumber, Tanaka opens his van door, unclips his seatbelt, and leans out. His tongue sticks out the corner of his mouth as he concentrates on using his saw-toothed penknife to cut through the rope attached to the grappling hook.

“I’m gonna try and shake ‘em by going through the narrow tunnel! Chika, you okay up on the roof?”

“Yup, it’s narrow but just tall enough.” There’s a clunk from in the back of the van, before Narita speaks up.

“As long as I can connect this last wire, I should have this ready to launch as soon as we enter the tunnel.”

“Sweet!” Noya takes the intersection off towards the narrow tunnel, knowing it will get rid of those chasing them. And if it doesn’t, it makes sure Kinoshita and Ennoshita have a clear line of sight to use their firearms on. 

The tunnel comes into view. Tanaka manages to cut through the grappling hook rope. From the car closest to him, there’s a boom.

A _net_ wraps itself around him, and it’s tugged back, Tanaka dropping his penknife as he’s unbalanced, pulled from the van. Ennoshita calls for him, but it’s too late.

The van vanishes into the tunnel, unable to turn around and save him, and Tanaka is left at the hands of his captors, under a weighted net in the middle of the road. As the ringleader of the small group they were supposed to eliminate looks down on him, Tanaka glares back. The ringleader spits out a cigarette, stomping it into the ground with his heel.

“Oh yeah, this is gonna be a fun one to break.”


	2. A friend(?) in need.

Tanaka isn’t sure how or when he was knocked out, but he can tell it happened from the throbbing in the back of his head as he blinks awake with a groan. The memories flood back in a rush and he lifts his head to look around quickly, narrowing his eyes in the darkness.

He’s in a room with stone walls, bars over one tiny window that he presumes leads into a corridor, considering the unnatural lighting, and a door he can already tell is locked and bolted. He clicks his tongue against the roof of his mouth in annoyance, trying to gauge how much he can move. 

His wrists are handcuffed behind him, and his right ankle is chained to the wall, but asides from that, he’s able to move. His chain clinks, and it’s only as he glares at it with a deep hatred he realises it isn’t rusty, or painted.

It’s coated in dried blood. The _wall_ is splattered with dry blood, and on the floor where he lays, there’s a puddle of dried blood and what he fears may be a tooth. He isn’t the first here. And he has _no idea_ if the previous person lived or died.

“- in there!” An aggressive demand from outside heralds the door opening, and Tanaka holds his breath out of shock. Beaten, chained, and _collared_ is one of the younger members of another Yakuza group in the area - Aobajousai - holding a bowl of what seems to be some kind of food with bread on the side.

Tanaka can’t stop his stomach rumbling.

“Go on, give it to ‘im.” The boy is roughly pushed in, tripping over the chains between his two ankles and spilling the… Soup? Possible soup? He’s abruptly whipped, curling up into a ball to try and protect himself, and Tanaka feels a flood of rage.

“Hey! You can’t hit him just ‘cus _you_ pushed him over, asshole!” The captor turns eyes to him, pulling the whip tighter. Tanaka just scowls at him, rising to the danger with fury. 

“Oh really? I was under the impression people do what they want with their _property_.”

“He ain’t a possession! He’s a kid, you sick bastard!” The whip lashes towards Tanaka, catching his cheek and cutting it deep, but even as it stings, even as the blood drips down, he glares. He’s caught off guard by the captor bursting into laughter.

“Boss was right, you _are_ gonna be fun to break~. I’ll leave my toy with you, set an example. Oi!” The boy flinches, shuffling into a kneeling position, much to Tanaka’s horror. Three weeks. Three weeks that boy has been missing, and here he is, completely obeying this- this _supposed to be_ small Yakuza group out of pure, genuine fear.

“Eat any of the food and I’ll fuckin’ flay ya.” The door slams shut. Tanaka takes a moment to listen to footsteps fading away, before turning to the boy. He picks up the bowl, and what little soup is left, looking over his shoulder before _pouring_ it out. Then, he picks up the two tiny pieces of bread rolls and grinds them into crumbs between his fingers, sweeping them away.

“What did you do that for? Ain’tcha hungry? I woulda shared.” The boy looks around warily, as if expecting his ‘owner’ to materialise from the walls, before he speaks, voice hoarse and unused for a long time.

“Drugged.”

“It was- The food was drugged?” The boy nods, but at the sound of a clang in the distance, skitters to where spare chains dangle on the other side of the room, sitting there in perfect seiza but with head hung low. A shadow flickers past the window as someone walks by, and the boy relaxes slightly the longer it’s silent.

“What happened to you, Kindaichi…?” Tanaka remembers the boy from the battlefield. He remembers the imposing figure, using his height to leer over rivals, the constant sneer whenever Kageyama was around, and the expert way he handled a bow and arrow.

He remembered the boy from the meetings. The one who sat on the fringes of the Aobajousai side of the table, talking excitedly to Hinata in breaks and snarking with Tsukishima, and glowing with praise when his boss - Oikawa - thanked him for his input.

He remembered the boy from down-time. When peace was good between groups and they drunk in the same pub and laughed together, playing games and just having fun. The boy who held the darts record, blushed when his senpai ruffled his hair, and took naps with his best friend in a corner.

This person here wasn’t the Kindaichi that Tanaka remembered. His dark eyes are shadowed over like he’s lost hope, but they dart around wildly, searching for any dangers. His hair hangs low over his face, a little longer than Tanaka remembers, dirty and unwashed.

“Hey, c’mon, I’m not gonna hurt you. Just tell me what happened.” Those terrified eyes flicker to the dried blood Tanaka sits in and he feels his stomach tie itself in a knot. The last prisoner had lived. The last prisoner had been broken, in as little as three weeks.

“They tortured ya?” Kindaichi nods. He takes a shallow breath, double checking no-one is at the door before he speaks, quiet and haunting.

“And they’ll do it to you too.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just had to add my favourite boy... Why do I love hurting him so...?


	3. A promise.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> THIS IS WHERE THE TAGS REALLY COME INTO PLAY, PLEASE BE CAUTIOUS!!!

Five days. For five days, Tanaka had remained chained to the wall in isolation. The only reason he knew days had passed was because of how many times Kindaichi tapped the bowl against the floor when he delivered the soup, which was always emptied. Water, though, was safe. _For now_ , Kindaichi had informed in on the first day.

Knowing that he would be tortured soon, every minute that passed felt like hours. He was starting to get jittery, jolting to alertness every time he heard a noise. 

“Fuck this.” He picks up a stone and chucks it across the room, but as it skitters, he hears the opening of a door in the distance and a growl grows in his throat. It’ll just be the same as always. They’ll shove Kindaichi in to give him food and water, then drag the kid away and leave Tanaka to rot in the silence.

He’s had just about enough of this.

“Come and face me, you cowards!” The door slides open. Tanaka’s eyes widen in surprise before narrowing in an intimidation attempt. It’s not the usual guy, the one who claims he ‘owns’ Kindaichi. 

This guy is shorter, but has much more muscle. He also has some kind of baseball bat in one hand, chipped in places and obviously sanded down to an interesting shape, although it’s still covered in bloodstains.

Aha. So _now_ the torture begins. Tanaka fights to keep a grin off his face. He was wondering when the cowards were going to step forwards and do something, after keeping him on edge for so long. 

“About time! I was starting to feel like a _guest_!” The door shuts. The room is thrown into darkness, asides from that one corridor window, the unnatural light filtering in. Tanaka can hear the heavy footsteps approaching, and see the silhouette of the baseball bat being raised.

“Not even an introduction, huh.” He throws his bodyweight backwards, moving as much as the short chain around his ankle will allow, narrowly missing the weapon swinging down on him. He sweeps his free leg out, getting the guy in the back of one knee and making him stumble. Then, Tanaka launches forwards and punches him in the face.

“C’mon, big guy! Let’s dance!” The brute lifts the baseball up to rest on his shoulder.

“The more you fight back, the more you’ll regret it.”

“Oh yeah? Lemme off this chain and I’ll give you a _real_ fight!”

“Hm. Just as stupid as the last one. I _hate_ the hot-blooded types.” Tanaka almost doesn’t see the bat coming, managing to block it with his arm. It gives a dull, sickening thud, bone possibly breaking, and Tanaka tries not to let his wince show.

“You’ll learn.” He goes to duck and roll away, but the chain around his ankle is too short and he just ends up throwing himself on the floor. He’s an easy target here, and a kick to the stomach reminds him of that.

It’s followed by the first hit across the head, sending stars in his vision, and the deep echo of a bass instrument reverbing through his head. It _hurts_. With a ‘tch!’, he rolls himself forwards and sinks his teeth into the guy’s ankle, but he’s quickly beaten off.

“Oh. I should probably tell you. The more you hit me, the more Kizuki’s _toy_ gets punished.”

“What?! Why?!” Caught off guard, Tanaka misses the bat that shatters his kneecap, and he responds in kind by kicking out. The guy doesn’t even dodge, cruel grin on his face and a coldness in his eyes. 

He’s not dodging. He’s _taking_ the hits. The hits that will later reflect on the scared, broken boy Tanaka knows.

“Why? Because he’s failed to do his job setting an example, of course. But fight me all you want. After all, the worse he’s punished the more chance I have of getting a turn~.”

“Getting a turn of what?” The man laughs, pure evil, and leans down to whisper it in Tanaka’s ear, as if it’s a personal secret. Tanaka’s eyes widen as the fury and rage and disgust boil inside him.

“That’s disgusting! That’s- He’s a _kid_ , you bastard! How could you do that to a kid?!”

“A kid? Last I heard, Aobajousai recruited at 16. Perfectly legal in this region.” 

“I’m gonna kill you. I’m gonna break out of here and fucking _kill_ you!” The man laughs again, nudging the tip of the baseball bat against Tanaka’s certainly broken arm, and then lands another hit, this time on his thigh.

“Got a long list then! I’m nowhere _near_ the most frequent user.” All the merriment and sick glee suddenly vanishes to a cold, stony expression.

“But then, you won’t be going anywhere soon.” The baseball bat comes down one last time, knocking him out completely.

Tanaka comes around with a drawn-out, painful whine. Something is prodding at his broken limbs, albeit gently, and he tries to pull them away. The careful hands stop for a moment before resuming, and Tanaka realises someone must be treating the wounds.

He manages to open his eyes, vision a little blurred, most likely from the whack on the head. But he recognises that height, and the way the figure hunches over as if expecting constant beatings. And then, Tanaka spots the bruises.

_The more you hit me, the more Kizuki’s toy gets punished._

So it hadn’t been a lie or provocation. It was true. At first, guilt floods Tanaka, but then he realises this is not his fault. This situation would never have happened if this Yakuza group hadn’t formed from the most repulsive, brutal, and merciless individuals. 

He reaches out and grabs Kindaichi’s wrist, sympathetically wincing at the heavy flinch. Those dark eyes, dull and lacking life turn to him slowly, and Tanaka sees no blame in them, just suffering and trauma.

“I’m gonna get you outta here, I _promise_ you, kid, I won’t let them do this to you anymore. I’ll get you out.” Kindaichi looks around warily, keeping his voice just a whisper.

“Thank you. But I think it’s too late.” Tanaka watches in horror as he limps away at a simple ‘come’, the shadow of a broken boy.


	4. Rescue!!

The torture continues for many days. It goes from just being beaten to having his nails removed, to being cut, and the thing that breaks Tanaka most is that he can’t fight back. He can’t fight, because all his actions reflect on Kindaichi.

Tanaka may be a rough ‘n’ tough Karasuno crow, but he’s soft at heart.

He licks his dry, cracked lips, mouth feeling like cotton. He’s so _thirsty_ , but two days ago, Kindaichi had tapped his finger on the side of the glass of water.

Drugged.

So he couldn’t even drink the water unless he wanted to find out what effects the drugs would have on him. But he was just… So _thirsty_. So when the meal and water is delivered later that day, he grabs the glass and downs it before Kindaichi can stop him, gulping it down under the sad, almost sorrowful eyes of his only companion.

He shouldn't have drunk it. He _knows_ , from Kindaichi’s warnings and his own common sense that he shouldn’t have drunk it. He can already feel the haziness settling in. His limbs are like lead, completely useless, and he flops to the floor. Kizuki enters the room, sliding his sleazy hand around Kindaichi’s waist and leading out the room, and Tanaka just manages to make his words out through the fuzzy, static like feeling.

“Good boy, you _finally_ did what you were meant to do. Let me take you to the chambers for a…. Reward, hmm~?” The way it’s phrased doesn’t make it sound like a reward at all, but Tanaka can’t speak out or move or do _anything_ to stop Kindaichi being taken away.

He’s numb for what feels like a full hour, but he knows it’s barely been minutes. He can hear someone coming down the hallway, and he just about manages to open his eyes to see the Don of this small area marching in the door, two bodyguards at his side.

“I don't have time to waste. Let’s start the procedure.” One of the bodyguards drags Tanaka into a recovery position, then pins him down. His shirt is lifted up and his hip is exposed. He hears a whoosh, something that sounds like an oven firing up, and then the distinct sound of something _metal_ in the flames.

It strikes him with pure terror that he’s about to be _branded_ , like cattle. He’s about to be given, quite painfully, the mark of this Yakuza group, in some sick, twisted way to claim him.

“N-No!” He tries to protest, but his tongue is heavy in his mouth, like it’s swollen, and he can’t get out any other words, not threats nor insults. The burning iron comes closer, and Tanaka can feel the heat radiating from it before it even touches him. 

“You belong to _us_ now. Karasuno won’t want you anymore.” Lies. _Lies_. Tanaka knows they’re lies, but there’s that tiny voice in the back of his mind that wonders if there’s a truth to it, if his family will never come and get him.

Surely they would have by now, if they were trying, right?

But then again, this group was much larger and more dangerous than expected, having hid most of their resources and personnel underground. Whilst Tanaka though ‘The second years’ had taken out a large percentage of their rising enemy, it looked more like they’d only scratched the surface.

Those thoughts are forced away when the branding iron makes contact. It burns through his skin and embedds in the flesh, searing the group’s mark into his hip. He’s screaming. He knows he’s screaming. He can’t _stop_ himself screaming.

The branding iron is lifted away, and ice cold water is poured over the burn, making him spasm from the agony. That mark, now, forever, will be printed there on his hip, burnt into his flesh to mark the ruin they’ve rained upon him.

It almost breaks him. It _would_ break him, if he wasn’t so dead-set on getting out of here. He made a promise, and a Karasuno Crow _never_ goes back on their promise. He’s going to get out of here, and he’s going to get Kindaichi out of here.

He made that promise.  
He was going to keep it, no matter how much they tried to break him.

The Don must see the fire still burning in his eyes, despite the tears that linger there, because he smirks.

“A little harder to break than the last one. Perhaps, you shall be my _personal_ toy.” Tanaka doesn’t have time to spit back a reply before there’s the distinct sound of distant gunfire, and then the door to the room slams open by some grunt.

“Boss! It’s Karasuno and Aobajousai! They’ve- They’ve formed an _alliance!!!_ ” A bullet impacts him in the chest, and then four more, before the grunt even has time to fall to the ground. 

The Don’s bodyguards pull out their own weapons, but whilst they’re focused on the door, a hammer smashes the window with the bars over it, and the second the bodyguards turn to it, Daichi skids into the doorway to unleash hell through a rain of bullets.

It’s a face-off between the leaders of opposing groups, but as incapacitated as he is, there’s no way Tanaka is going without a fight. No way in _hell_. He grabs the branding iron that’s been discarded on the floor in favour of guns and launches himself forwards and upwards, the hot iron scorching the face of the rival Don.

Daichi pulls the trigger as soon as the other Don is unbalanced and caught off guard. With that one shot, the opposing Yakuza group is annihilated. Any that live will disband, but Daichi knows it’s unlikely any of the grunt will escape. 

Merciful he may be, but Suga is _not_ , and he’s sure Aobajousai are out for blood. 

“D-Daichi…” He slings the gun back around on the strap to rest on his back, kneeling down next to Tanaka, hands hovering over him with deep concern, not sure what to do.

“It’s okay, we’re going to get you out of here.” Tanaka pushes himself up into a sitting position, hissing at the movement, the tightness of the burn stretching at his skin, and all the bruises and broken bones adding up to make it impossible to move.

“Asahi! In here!” Only seconds later does Asahi appear in the room, the gentle giant smashing the bolts chaining Tanaka to the wall and fastening his hammer into his belt, and scooping Tanaka up with no hesitation. 

Tanaka, in a moment of relief at finally being rescued, grabs tightly onto Asahi’s shirt and rests his head against his shoulder almost forcefully, blinking away the tears he’s wanted to shed for a few days.

“Shh, we’ve got you… Let’s get you home, Tanaka.” He’s so _gentle_ , the perfect medic, and Tanaka nods, trying to bury himself in the warmth and affection. If this is a dream, he never wants to wake up. Asahi stands, carrying him in his arms, and out of the room for the first time in _twelve days_.

The sounds of far off battle are somewhat comforting. But the close sound of footsteps rushing towards them are not. Tanaka tenses, scrunching his eyes shut. Daichi stands in front of him and Asahi, but rather than fire off bullets, raises a neutral hand.

It’s Oikawa and Iwaizumi, covered in blood from the rampage of slaughter they’ve just gone on in the gambling area.

“You got yours?” 

“Mhm. I’ll cover Asahi to the exit where he’ll withdraw, but Karasuno won’t blow this place until we find yours.” _They’re talking about us_ , Tanaka realises, and he wearily lifts his head to speak, finding the effects of the drug wearing off after a short time.

“Chambers… They took him… To the chambers…” Oikawa’s eyes blaze with fury, his nostrils flaring and his frown turning much darker, more serious. Next to him, Iwaizumi grips his duel yawara tighter with the promise of bloodshed, his weapon and hands already dripping blood.

Tanaka finds himself hoping the blood of Kizuki joins them soon.

“Thank you.” The duo run off with new purpose and destination in mind. Tanaka releases a sigh, knowing that with them on the warpath, Kindaichi is bound to be rescued.

Asahi squeezes him a little tighter in reassurance, and Tanaka relaxes into his arms. After all the torture, it’s wonderful to be held so safely like this, knowing he’s going back to the place where he’s loved, where he belongs.

Daichi stands on guard as Asahi helps Tanaka into the van, careful of his injured hip, and taking note of any breaks. As Asahi is just doing up Tanaka’s seatbelt, Suga strolls out the building whistling merrily. Kunimi trails behind him, holding a phone that is undoubtedly a trigger.

“Bombs are rigged, we are _ready_ to blow~.” 

“Calm down, Suga. We need to withdraw our teams first.” Daichi pulls a walkie-talkie inspired device out of his deep trouser pocket, and holds down the button on it. Numerous circles, ones linked to others devices, light up in orange.

They steadily turn green as members of Karasuno and Aobajousai filter out the building at different checkpoints, pressing their own buttons to mark them as clear. It’s a good thing Kunimi is holding the explosive trigger, because Suga itches to press it. 

“Come on, come on…” Two lights are still amber. The devices linked to Oikawa and Iwaizumi are still unanswered, and Daichi frets the longer they stay silent. Then, the two lights turn green in unison and Daichi barely has to give the order before Kunimi presses the call button, and the underground Yakuza goes up in a _ginormous_ explosion. 

Watching through the van window, Tanaka gives a small ‘whoop’ as he watches, grateful to see that place burn to the ground. A distinctive white and aqua van drives past slowly, stopping to let Kunimi on board, and Tanaka knows that Aobajousai are returning home, and that Karasuno will do the same.

The instant he thinks that, Noya sticks his head through the little window between the driver's seat and the back section.

“Peddle to the meddle?” Tanaka returns the cheeky grin with one of his own and a thumbs up.

“Peddle to the meddle, Noya.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for how short it is!!!  
> Please Kudos and Comment~.


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